


Cheerful Weather for the Wedding

by Laurentia



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 17:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10223756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurentia/pseuds/Laurentia
Summary: A wedding for the ages between two unlikely candidates.





	

Cora sucked in a deep breath as she observed her appearance in the mirror. O'Brien was hovering behind her, putting the final touches to her hair and Cora managed a small tight smile for the effort that had clearly gone into her maid's appearance this morning too. This wedding included everyone after all and O'Brien looked rather well put together and for all that Cora knew nothing about doing one's own hair she knew enough to recognise the difference.

"You're looking very nice O'Brien."

Her maid's eyes shot up to meet hers in the mirror, looking more than a little perturbed to be given a compliment and Cora couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since O'Brien had received any such attention from anyone. It was a shame really, O'Brien really was much nicer than most people seemed to think and if no one else was going to see that then Cora supposed it was her duty to see her maid was treated well.

"Thank you m'lady."

"They've sat you on the groom's side for the sake of the numbers of course but I hope you'll have a drink with me at the party afterwards?"

O'Brien smiled softly and finished the preparations to her lady's hair without much flourish but with infinite precision. She was nothing if not subtle and brought her hand down onto Cora's shoulder to let her know she was finished; they'd fallen apart years ago, both of them, and together built themselves back up with routines and familiarity.

"I'd be happy to m'lady. I'm still surprised that we're being allowed upstairs for the occasion."

"Nonsense O'Brien. Quite apart from the fact that the happy couple insisted upon it for certain members of staff you've _all_ been through so much with us during the war it only felt right."

O'Brien stepped back to allow Cora to her feet and brushed down the dress to straighten it up. The material wasn't _as_ fine as the sort Cora might have had before the war but it was still beautiful and Sarah didn't bother to smoother her smile – she kept her front up with most people but with Cora there was just no need anymore – at the pleasure her lady had taken in having it fitted last month. The irony was of course that parts of _her_ dress, being old as it was, were actually of a better quality to Cora's.

"We're all very grateful m'lady," she smirked and met Cora's eye as she reached up to delicately place the matching hat on her soft hair. "Some more than others of course."

Cora smiled wryly back at her.

"I can imagine. I expect…" She hesitated. But they were friends weren't they and surely O'Brien wouldn't take offence. "Some people haven't been very supportive."

O'Brien nodded her head in acquiesce.

"They haven't. But then who are they to stand in the way of true love?"

* * *

Carson straightened his tie in the mirror, not bothering to turn around when there was a knock on his door. With all the excitement downstairs and up there was only one person it was likely to be and it was hardly inappropriate to be caught straightening his tie even if it wasn't-

"Mrs Hughes. Are all the preparations ready?"

Mrs Hughes entered the room with the same look of unconcealed confusion and disapproval that she had worn since the wedding had been announced. It wasn't that startling of course, given the ambivalence at best she had displayed for both members of the wedding party, but Carson couldn't help but be silently amused that she'd still made the effort to curl her hair and affix a flower to her hat for the occasion.

"They are, although whichever one of them decided on the seating arrangements in the dining room deserves to be shot at dawn."

She sniffed and he allowed her to go on. It was a subject that had been bothering her for week now and it was only polite to let her get her fill of complaining before they had to put on the usual faces of servitude upstairs and pretend that all was as well as had been planned.

"His lordship will hardly appreciate being sat next to his sister all afternoon, and with her ladyship at the other end of the table with…well we both know who she's with and I'm still not sure I can fathom it."

"Times are changing Mrs Hughes and the _groom_ did request it after all."

"Times are not changing enough for _that_ to go unnoticed." In the reflection before him he saw her come further into the room, closing the door behind her and he knew that whilst she was more than happy to badmouth a groom who wasn't part of the family without true privacy, there were limits when it came to the bride. "And I do wonder that you've still such disdain for him when at least _his_ motives are clear: _hers_ leave a lot to be desired!"

Carson frowned and turned to her, having gotten his tie as straight as it was ever going to be and sufficiently arranged his hair to maximum effect. It was rather an honour to be invited to the wedding, even if the time would never come when he would sit on the front row and see someone he loved marry; however, _third_ row – on account of the bride he assumed – was hardly to be sniffed at.

"Are we to argue about this _again_ Mrs Hughes?" He raised an eyebrow good-naturedly and didn't comment when she reached out to brush tiny specs of dust from the back of his pristinely pressed black coat. It was a sign of the strength of their friendship he supposed that he didn't even have to ask now and she would assist him in the business of always looking like the perfect butler. "I don't think I have the energy."

"And there's no point anyway," she finished her task and nodded in acceptance, reaching primly for the door again. They couldn't afford for it to be closed for too long after all or else people would talk, but she hesitated at the last moment. "It does feel odd though doesn't it? Even to you. To be going to _this_ wedding-"

"Ah yes Mrs Hughes," he waved her out of the way and opened the door himself, holding it for her less anyone accuse him of not being a gentleman. "But then people never do as they're supposed to."

* * *

Anna closed the door to the yard behind her and smiled at the man that greeted her. It had been a long, hard struggle but here he was again, meeting her in the bright, fresh spring air as though nothing had ever happened. In the daylight it was even more apparent that prison had aged him but he was blissfully alive, if even quieter than he had been before, but he was smiling at her now and it warmed her heart to think that soon enough she would be able to leave Downton with him for good. They had only to save up money now and what was money but a means to an end? They had each other and he was _alive_.

"I wasn't sure whether you'd walk out."

"Of course I would silly, how else was I going to get there?"

He smiled and she felt the warmth reach out to her, drawing her to him as it had all those years before and she still wove her arm through his as though it was the first time. Today was a good day after all, and no one was going to begrudge a married couple from walking arm in arm on the way to watch someone else's nuptials in the July sunshine. Anna felt like she might glow with happiness: after the darkness of last year she lived for days like this now.

"I wasn't sure whether you might have gone in the car with the bride."

"Heaven forbid," Anna smiled ruefully as they started their walk leisurely. They had plenty of time after all. "It's been hectic enough these past few weeks, I think I need this walk to cleanse me of the last dressing session yesterday. She nearly spat the pins back at me!"

He grinned and she only wished she was joking. Even Miss O'Brien had been her temporary ally in adding the final touches to her ladyship's dress and dodging the barbs that were flying so thickly that Anna was beginning to suspect nerves had nothing to do with it and she just enjoyed it. Poor Lady Grantham had borne the brunt of it but then she must be used to it by now and Anna had watched O'Brien scowl at every criticism of her lady and looking like she dearly wanted to stick the pin somewhere else entirely.

"I can imagine. She's nervous."

Anna raised her eyebrows and looked over at her eternally kind-natured husband. It wasn't that he _always_ saw the best in people she knew but he did have a remarkable capacity for overlooking some people's foibles that sometimes astounded hr given how they had treated him in the past.

"Well I'll have to make myself believe that. After the things she said to me and Miss O'Brien it's a wonder that I haven't handed my notice in."

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?"

"Well," he smiled mysteriously. "Maybe one day. But until then we're happy here aren't we?"

The plans they'd made four years ago were nothing more than pipe dreams now. John knew that any money he had possessed had been lost to Vera and though she was dead his wife had been quick enough about spending it on god only knew what that there was nothing left now. Still, they had Downton and his lordship had been good about letting him move into Anna's room - with a second maid absent there had been more than enough space - and he was quite content to enjoy his freedom and his bride in the here and now without concerning himself unduly about the future.

"The happiest I've ever been," she darted up and kissed his cheek.

With a small smile and a quick check of his watch to make sure they did have as much time as he thought they did John gently guided her towards the outside wall of the yard and leant down for a better, longer kiss.

"The happiest you've been so far."

* * *

Robert felt like banging his head against the dining room table as he stared at each of the name places with something akin to horror. Whoever had decided that Molesley should sit two seats away from the heir of Grantham clearly needed their head examining and Robert wasn't sure anyone involved in this wedding was sufficiently sane enough to perform the examination anymore. It wasn't that he didn't _like_ Molesley of course, in fact he was a first rate valet and were it not for Bates' return and Matthew's prior claim he would be his first choice and certainly a more reliable prospect than Thomas, but to sit him _two_ seats away was just insanity. But what could he say? It was their day after all and if they wanted a servant to sit within spitting distance of a Viscount then it was their business, but he would certainly have something to say about it given half the chance.

"Do stop it Robert, smouldering doesn't become you at all."

He rolled his eyes and slumped into a seat in a most unseemly manner but then the presence of his sister did have the unfortunate effect of rendering them both childish again. At least when their Mama wasn't around to keep a beady eye on them. Before he had become the Earl, when Mary and Edith were born and bonny and he and Cora were in the heady, youthful days of their marriage they'd spent many happy visits with Rosamund and her late husband that had descended into childish one-up-man-ship. Marmaduke had years on all of them of course but their storytelling and enjoyment of his excellent wine had kept him amused and part of the little gang they had formed against the dour Earl and Countess still in their seats.

In many ways, Marmaduke was the man that Richard Carlisle had never been but that Robert had hoped he would emulate for Mary's sake. It had never been ideal of course but a man like that had made his sister happy so there was no reason his eldest, who was so like her really, wouldn't be the same. He huffed and met her eye, trying to keep the astonishment at her clothing off his face. He had long since learnt that questioning the amount of feather, beads or other adornments a woman needed was folly.

"I think it's more than justified."

"Oh cheer up! It's not that awful."

"Rosamund, it's practically illegal!"

"At least you won't be usurped as the heir," his sister smirked and looked as amused with herself as she usually did. "I doubt she'll be great with child particularly soon!"

Robert took a deep breath at the very thought and managed the very smallest of smiles. Sometimes, even though she was really rather inappropriate in her choice of subject to laugh at, Rosamund was very funny and the very thought of the child that might be produced filled him with laughter and he joined her in a conspiratorial laugh.

"Now that _would_ be biblical."

She slumped into the seat next to him, rather more delicately than he had but he put that down to the constriction of her clothing rather than any intention of being ladylike.

"I'm sure it'll all work out for the best Robert. Even the most unusual marriages do in the end."

"Yes, but this isn't just _unusual_ is it? This is the world gone mad."

"God you sound like Papa when you speak like that. All portents of doom and misery."

"If only he were here-"

"He's not."

She was sharp suddenly and if he was starting to sound more and more like their Father then Rosamund was acquiring more of their Mother's traits every day.

"If he was none of this nonsense would be happening but he isn't so you're just going to have to lump it Robert. If she wants to marry him she shall."

"So speaks the woman of the world?"

"So speaks someone who knows how it feels to be alone."

He reached for her hand silently and together they sat, considering with greater depths the wedding that was about to occur. Perhaps loneliness _was_ the cause? There had to be some reason for this insanity.

* * *

"To think, the splendour you might have married in," Tom grinned as he took his seat at least three quarters of the way back in the pews of the genteel country church that bore absolutely no sign of keeping to its simple, Protestant roots. He was left in no shadow of doubt as to what the hosts thought of him and had a feeling that were it not for Sybil he'd be viewing the service from the other side of the street.

"Don't be silly darling. If I want splendour I'll wait for my second marriage."

She grinned right back at him as he helped her lower herself into her seat, great with child to the point of excess and cursing her Grandmother once again for insisting that this wedding had to go ahead before the end of summer when she was due in August. Her excuse of being swollen had not managed to counter her Grandmother's grandiose and tragic ' _I might be dead if we leave it too long_ ' and so she was going to have to lump it.

At least she was spared being one of the bridesmaids and Sybil was glad for that. Standing next to Edith today of all days might not be the best idea for one's health.

"What second marriage is this then?"

He slung a casual arm around the back of the pew, giving her something to rest her aching shoulders against which she did gratefully.

"Oh well a lady always likes to marry for money first and then for love once she's financially secure."

"And who taught you that bit of rubbish."

Sybil smirked wryly and did a quick scan of the church to make sure the culprit was out of hearing range.

"Aunt Rosamund, of course. It was what she was taught after all."

"So, on your Aunt's advice you'll chuck me and little Tom here over?"

Sybil rolled her eyes good-naturedly and brought her hand up to rest on her stomach protectively.

"We are _not_ calling him Tom."

"You don't want him to be named for his old man?"

"Of course I do," she smirked, unable to prevent her lips from doing something with the amusement that was bubbling through her and sighed dramatically, keeping her eyes down. "If only he were here though."

She brought a hand up to imitate crying silent weeping and got a poke in the back for her trouble which, despite the fact that it was aggravating her already sore back – to be fair it was a spit in the ocean at this point – caused her to giggle. Two rows in front of them she saw her Cousin Susan's sharply affixed hat turn around and roll her eyes at them disapprovingly and Sybil giggled further. Public displays of marriage had never quite been the Flintshire's way.

"Seriously though," Tom sobered for a moment and looked around at the assembled family and friends, all of whom were dressed to their best. Even O'Brien was wearing something that in the right light might not be black and Mr Carson was indistinguishable from any of the gentlemen. "You might have had a wedding like this: family everywhere rather than just your sisters-"

Secretly he was rather glad that it had just been them, if he'd had to pick from Sybil's relatives then Edith, who he'd spent some time with already, would have been top of the list. Mary had behaved herself but he'd seen her itching to say _something_ to him only to be hurried away by the redhead; if he's had his way then the Countess would have taken her place but if she'd come then she'd have brought the Earl with her and the day wouldn't have been half as harmonious.

"And a proper vicar, rather than some registrar-"

"Tom. Stop," she tilted her head towards him. "We've been through this. I got the wedding I wanted."

He smiled and leant in to press his lips briefly to hers. He would have liked to linger longer but the family weren't exactly predisposed in his favour as it was so he resisted.

"And you'll get the splendour at your second one?"

"I'd have it just the same."

* * *

Edith resisted the urge to scuff her new shoes against the ground, feeling more like a sullen child than she had in years, but, she reasoned, with a perfectly sound excuse. It wasn't that she begrudged the marriage per say – she wanted others to be _happy_ after all – but it didn't seem fair that this much attention was being lavished on someone else's wedding when her own mother seemed to have given up hope of her ever marrying at all!

And the dress was hideous too. If she didn't know any better then she'd swear it had been done purposefully to draw attention to how nice the bride looked but the other bridesmaid dress had not turned out nearly as hideously and she wouldn't put it past Mary to have given the seamstress the wrong measurements on purpose!

"Cheer up m'lady, it could be worse."

Thomas sauntered up to her side, dressed better than Edith had ever seen him in a fitted charcoal wedding suit and she scowled at him unrepentantly. He reached into his pocket for his newly gilded cigarette case and made the sort of show opening it and lighting his cigarette than he used to with the dinner service when he was in the mood.

"It's your fault I'm stuck wearing this."

He held his hand to his chest in mock surprise - the one, she noted with some satisfaction, that he still had to cover up with a white glove giving him the look of a mime - and held the cigarette case towards her with the other one. She took one petulantly; it was a new to her and wasn't quite a habit yet but she was hardly going to back down in front of Thomas.

"I don't remember coming for any dress fittings. And I would've kept my mouth shut even if I had."

Edith rolled her eyes and flounced, tempted to throw her flowers onto the ground in frustration. The stupid yellow dress was hanging off her chest and far too narrow around the hips and gave her the impression of looking utterly baggy and were it not her duty she would have turned tail and fled from this wedding with all the strength her legs possessed. She knew she wasn't the only one: Papa passed her looking like he was heading a funeral march, followed by an ever-ebullient Aunt Rosamund and Mama, who looked more like she was critiquing the seating arrangement rather than the marriage itself. On the _other_ side, as she had deemed the side of the room not taken up by her family, there were more servants than she had imagined the groom could genuinely count amongst his friends and she spotted amongst them about three that didn't look as disapproving of the whole affair as her Papa did.

"I don't understand why she wouldn't just let me ask one of the maids to take it in and fit it properly. I swear," she reached into his pocket for a match and withdrew the packet without him even batting an eyelid, which gave her some pause. "When O'Brien saw me this morning she looked like she was going to whip out a needle and thread out of pity."

He smirked as she lit her cigarette and she tried not to furrow her brow at his utter lack of reaction as she replaced the matches. Edith didn't count herself as a woman of the world - although she had high hopes that Aunt Rosamund might let her come and stay this summer without her sisters and parents present - but she had been pressed hard enough against John Drake to know how things went and Thomas hadn't even twitched. It was possible that he just had no interest in _her_ of course - when, taking her cues from Sybil, she'd attempted to at least indulge in some flirtation after the Servant's Ball last year, he hadn't been particularly responsive - but that didn't make it any easier to be _glad_ he was marrying a member of her own damned family!

* * *

The bride looked resplendent, the vows were managed without the Earl rising from his seat in protest – due in large part to his wife and sister anchoring him down - and soon enough the whole wedding party were installed in the lower levels of the house. In the church it had been easier for the bride's side of the family to ignore the presence of the servants but now it was utterly unavoidable and, Isobel suspected, the presence of the servants was probably what was causing Carson to look like he was being forced to swallow diesel oil.

The rest of them seemed perfectly capable of mucking in together though and Isobel thought, not for the first time, that the butler was probably more of a snob than anyone else here. Sybil and Branson had the younger servants gathered around them, taking it in turns to put their hands on Sybil's protruding stomach and feel the kick, with the expectant mother grinning every time at the resultant squeals of delight. The Irishman was looking on proudly and chatting casually with anyone who passed and Isobel smiled vaguely in his direction, pleased by his presence even if she doubted anyone else would be.

Anna and Mary were quite happily talking not too far away from them and Cora and O'Brien, much to Robert's evident horror, were settled in a corner with Rosamund and seemed perfectly comfortable. She spotted the reflection of a gilded flask being passed between skirts and rolled her eyes, not expecting that to end well.

 _The war did some good then_ , she supposed, gratified to see that the barriers were breaking down, although she had to admit she hadn't expected them to fall quite so much to account for the extraordinary marriage. She sidled up to Violet with her usual lack of perspicacity.

"Well I'll give you that he's rather dapper, but you're not honestly going to try and tell me it's a love match?"

"Would it be so inconceivable?"

"Many things are at this stage."

Violet raised her eyebrow in exactly the same manner, Isobel noted, that she had passed on to her daughter and Mary.

"Your turn of phrase never ceases to be a joy to me."

Feeling rather like she had been dismissed but not about to be deterred Isobel, as ever, pushed on.

"I can almost understand it from his point of view," Violet chortled at that but didn't deign to meet the other woman's eye. "I mean, he's getting money, position and dare I say it, respectability. I just don't understand what you're getting out of this arrangement."

Violet met her gaze side-along and smiled the smile of a woman who was not to be argued with before looking back at the figure of her new husband as he danced with her middle granddaughter.

"And I imagine you never will."


End file.
